Sacrifice's Bird
by Wolf and Phoenix
Summary: Who is she? Why is her story so similar to Jane's? And why, why is a thirteen year old capable of skills an FBI agent would spend years learning? Takes place a day after 1x10, and Carter didn't kidnap Jane.
1. Chapter 1 - FBI, Much?

**A/N: Okay, this is my first fanfic, so forgive me if it's awful. Still being in school doesn't help, so I'd appreciate helpful comments to improve my writing. Thanks!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of its characters. I'm just messing around with them.**

She watches from the third floor, knowing today was the day she was going to be free. Maybe. Going to federal agents probably was stupid, but it was her only choice. A last resort. Her handler would kill her if he knew of her plan, her plan of betrayal, but she wouldn't die that way. Not if she could help it. She sees the team enter, sees them spread out, and knows that if she doesn't do this in her style, he would be suspicious. One of his best, going down to a few measly FBI agents? Not a chance. He would track her down, torture her in ways who knows how, and eventually she would break. She knows that, because she's not the adult that everyone thinks she is.

She's only thirteen.

Thirteen, nameless, and completely alone. Should be an easy capture for the feds, no?

She draws out her blades, worried that her plan relies almost entirely on luck. Though, she reminds herself, there's always Plan B.

She waits until the team draws nearer to the stairs, noting a heavily tattooed woman among them, and sucks a breath in. _No time to think about it. No time to remember. Just act._

Waits until they all begin to ascend the stairs.

Then she strikes.

Weller ascends the stairs cautiously, his team trailing behind him. He has a nasty gut feeling about this place, yet he's not quite sure why. Yes, he and his team were in a mansion with a highly dangerous suspect, but it's not like he hasn't been in other dangerous situations. Yet, he can't shake the feeling off. He glances back at his team, seeing their own expressions of unease, and knows he's not the only one.

As he faces forward again, a dagger spins out of nowhere, pinning his jacket to the banister before he and his team even have the chance to react. His team immediately aims their guns up at the third floor landing, dodging daggers, trying to see the attacker. They didn't get as far as two feet, before they were all pinned to the banister, Jane included.

Nobody moves.

A lithe girl emerges from the shadows. She's barely a teenager, but holding lethal knives, she looks much older. A smirk slowly spreads its way across her face. Though none of the team would admit it, they were all struggling to stay composed, despite the shock all of them just went through, seeing a girl barely in her teens, holding weapons she shouldn't have even known where to find them.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. A few feds, all trussed up and on the stairs. An early Christmas present for me," she sneers, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But the sender was just a wee bit early. Now, would you like to explain why you are here in my cosy little home?"

Weller holds his hands up, a gesture of submission. "Now, ma'am, I'm Kurt Weller, from the FBI. I don't know why you're here, but you just attacked FBI agents. You could be arrested for that. Kindly explain why you are in Alyona Romanova's home."

The girl hisses, a curling whisper of a snarl. "Now, dear agent, wouldn't that give me away? After all, who would want to put a scrawny little teenage girl in prison? I was just defending myself. There are many bad people out there, so why should I trust you?"

She made a sound argument, and while Weller was trying to come up with an answer, Jane jumps in. "Who are you?" It was a fundamental question.

The girl watches Jane like a cat, cocking her head to the side. "And who the hell are you?" She asks in Greek.

Weller looks to Jane, as if silently asking her what the girl was saying, but Jane only shakes her head. "I don't know what you're saying."

A lethal smile forms. "I said, who the hell are you?" She repeats herself, this time in Spanish, and she looks towards Zapata.

Zapata gives the girl a long, withering glance before she replies, "FBI. That's all you need to know."

The corner of the girl's mouth curls. "Really? I don't need to be worried about terrorists? Can I let you go, FBI agents? Should I trust you?" She taps a finger against the hilt of the dagger in her gloved hand, appearing to be debating with herself.

Snapping her fingers, she hisses, "Fine. Go and do your little search." Holding out her palms, her daggers pinning the agents to the ground fly up and into her hands. The agents' ears pick up a quiet whining noise, before she curls her fingers around the hilts of her daggers. Giving them one last glare, she whirls around, and melts back into the shadows.

Weller abruptly gets up and starts to climb the stairs again. In a gruff voice, he says, "Anyone think that's our suspect?"

Jane scrambles up and follows him, drawing out her gun. "Why do you think she let us go?"

Weller glances at her, then looks forward again. "I don't know, Jane." Reade and Zapata follow them, their own guns drawn.

Jane follows him, and when they reach the dark landing, they see a slight movement. Immediately, they bring up their guns and move cautiously, watching the darkness for anymore signs of movement.

Someone taps her on the shoulder, lightly, calmly. Jane whirls around and points her gun, but sees nothing. Confused, she starts to turn around, but she hears a quiet voice that stops her.

"Get in here. I need to explain." The voice sounded so lost, but firm.

Jane moves to the wall discretely and feels for an opening. A pair of hands turn her sideways and drag her into a hidden room, lit with a fireplace, complete with a table, chairs, and futon. She turns around, looking for the owner of the voice, when she comes face to face with the same teenage girl from earlier. She brings up her gun, and aims at the girl's chest.

"I know you're feeling defensive. Please listen," the girl lays out her assortment of daggers, guns, ammunition, and compact throwing knives on the table beside her. Jane's eyes widen at the amount of weapons the teen carried. More than an average FBI agent, as far as she knew.

The girl simply raises an elegant eyebrow at her silent question. "When you're the famous Alyona Romanova, you have to bring your stock of weapons."

 **A/N: Cliffhanger? No? This ending kind of reminds me of the little cliffie the Blindspot writers did in episode 10. You could see it coming.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Alyona Romanova

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to get out another chapter! School takes up 80% of my time, and piano takes up 15% of my time. And also, I'm sick, so that's kind of why I'm able to post this. Thanks for the reviews!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of its characters. I'm just messing around with them.**

Jane gapes at the teen before her. It couldn't be, could it? A mere teenager being one of the world's most known name? Impossible. Yet all of the evidence was in front of her. The weapons, the gender, the style. But it couldn't be…

Alyona simply smirks. "You ever heard that staring was rude?"

Jane blinks, then looks away. "Sorry."

Alyona shrugs. "Look, I need to disable all of the cameras in the house," she begins, then sees Jane stiffen. "Oh, no, there isn't one in here. This is my secret spot. Nobody saw you enter either."

Jane relaxes slightly, but her eyes dart over the room. "Why?"

"Because my handler has a horrible habit of checking up on me through cameras. Which is why I need your help, so I can tell my tale."

Jane gives Alyona a suspicious glance. Yes, she didn't trust her, who would? But… She was still a teenager. A child, even, if one were to consider her like that. Maybe she just needed a shoulder to lean on. But…

As Jane debates with herself, Alyona studies her intently. The tattoos, the startling hairstyle, the way the woman carried herself, the way she talked. She frowns, a crease marring her forehead. Those green eyes seem familiar, but Alyona can't remember why, no matter how hard she tries. She swears that she's seen them somewhere, she can feel the memory at the back of her mind, but to no avail. She simply can't recall where she's seen those eyes.

Alyona looks away to the fireplace, slightly troubled. To remember something, but to not be able to recall it? Seemingly impossible for her. Memorization was one of her many talents, and she could still remember little snippets from when she was three, or four. To not be able to recall something like this was... deeply concerning.

She hears a rustle of fabric, and looks up. Game time. "Well, agent?"

Jane looks like she's about to object the use of the title, but doesn't say anything. Instead, she murmurs, "I need to talk to Weller."

Alyona breathes a sigh of relief. Nearly there. Thank the stars. Though the woman was a wild card, she was a person she was going to use to her advantage. She motions to the entrance of her secret spot and Jane leaves the room, Alyona on her heels.

"Jane!"

Alyona winces.

"What are you doing? Why are you with her?" Weller's voice cuts through Alyona's thoughts of duct-taping the male agent's mouth. Honestly, did the guy know how to tone it down?

"There's cameras here," Jane murmurs. "We need to disable them."

Weller immediately stiffens. "We need to get out."

Alyona smirks. So the guy did know how to murmur. Good to know.

"We need to interrogate the girl, too. Apparently her guardian checks up on her through cameras. If he sees her gone, then there's a world of trouble after. Disabling the cameras will lead him to believe that there's a power outage or something," Jane persuaded.

Weller appears to consider for a few moments. "Fine."

Jane looks victorious as she glances at Alyona.

Alyona nods and ducks back into the secret room, emerging a few seconds later with a paper in her hand. "This is the floor plan I drew. The location of each camera I know about is labelled in red. I would recommend smashing each one, but since that's a wee bit obvious, try slicing the cord instead." She hands Jane the map. "I can't help you out, unfortunately, so you'll be on your own. Just try not making it too obvious that you're looking for cameras, agents."

And with that, she retreats into the room.

Jane glances at Weller and the rest of the team. He looks so stunned that Jane can't help but chuckle a little at the look. She snatches the floor plan out of his hand and studies it, seeing all of the traps that Alyona had set up. The girl was paranoid, but then again, anyone in her position would be too.

Weller snaps out of it and joins Jane, studying the map. Reade and Zapata have their guns drawn, watching for any threat.

"Done. Now tell us why you're here, ma'am."

Weller's voice cuts through Alyona's thoughts. She hides a scowl and is sorely tempted to duct-tape the agent's mouth. Again. Amazing how an FBI agent could get on her nerves so easily, really.

"Well," she begins, "I think I'll start by saying thank you, because I'm actually polite." A pointed look at Weller. "And, that you can find me weapon-free," she continues, pointing at her rather impressive weapons collection.

Weller frowns. "Why do you have weapons on you?"

Alyona smirks. "Because you have to always keep your whole arsenal on you when you're Alyona Romanova, agent."

Weller draws his gun. "Turn around, on your knees, hands behind your back."

Alyona spins around gracefully to her knees, her hands behind her back. "Of course."

Weller fastens handcuffs on her wrists, and yanks her up to her feet. "You're coming with us."

Alyona doesn't say anything. She allows herself to be yanked along, pushing down her drilled impulse to incapacitate the agent. Only when she sees the FBI building does she allow herself to relax slightly, breathing calmly to steady herself.

 _Here we go._

 **A/N: Likies? I know that it might seem a little odd that Weller cuffed Alyona, but he has reason. She's a dangerous teen. But if that bothers any of you, I'll change it. Just let me know in the reviews! Oh, and please leave any helpful comments in the reviews, as always. Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Interrogation

**A/N: Hey. Thanks for taking the time to read my fanfic and follow it! I have created a schedule, so I can write and keep on top of all of my schoolwork at the same time. In the time being though, during break I should be able to make my chapters longer. Right, on with the story! (There might be another cliffie…)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of its characters. I'm just messing around with them.**

Led by Agent Weller and his team, Alyona strides through the winding hallways of the FBI headquarters. Very bland, if she must say so herself. Too many white walls and… Alyona shakes her head. Way too many people in suits. Not enough people in combat clothing. Even Weller was wearing a dress shirt underneath his jacket. Who does that? Considering he's the head of the Critical Incident Response Group, it's a bit idiotic. But Alyona's not in a position to judge. After all, she _is_ the one who's handcuffed. Not like she can't slip out of these handcuffs, but…

Alyona lets herself be pushed into the interrogation room, her hand brushing the monitors along the way. _Calm and cool, Alyona. Don't lose your game face._

She watches, expressionless, as Weller and Reade sit across from her. _Soviet training doesn't cover turning one's self in willingly. I wonder if I'm supposed to sing or something?_

"Who are you?" Fundamental question. Weller watches the teen closely. Her expression doesn't change, and he thinks, _Damn, Soviet trained?_

Jane and Zapata, who were watching the interrogation on the monitors, seem to share the same thought.

Jane turns to Zapata. "Another Soviet trained?"

Zapata glances at her, then settles her gaze on the screen again. "Probably."

Alyona simply stares back at Weller. "I believe I answered that."

Weller holds her gaze, stoic. "Answer the question."

Alyona holds back a chuckle. It wouldn't do to mock them. "Alyona Romanova, agent."

Weller doesn't acknowledge her sarcastic tone. "How old are you?"

"Can you tell?"

"This isn't a game. Answer the question."

"Thirteen, _agent_ ," Alyona hisses out the answer. She lets her viciousness show, enjoying her act.

"Tell us about yourself." _Stupid question, Weller. Too open-ended, you idiot._

Alyona smirks. "Alyona was born in Russia and promptly abandoned by her parents, because they died barely seconds after her birth. Alyona was taken in by the Soviet, trained, and sent to do their dirty work. And thus we finish the name game."

Jane and Zapata stare wide eyed at the monitor.

"Did she just say that she was trained by the Soviet?" Jane asks Zapata.

Zapata just keeps staring at the screen. "Yeah."

Jane's staring at the screen too, and sees Alyona murmur something under her breath. "What did she say?"

Zapata turns to her. "What?"

Jane points at Alyona on the screen. "She said something under her breath."

Zapata glances back at the monitor, just in time to see Alyona mutter something else under her breath. "What's she saying?"

"I don't know. I can't tell what language she's speaking."

"We'll get Patterson to look at it later."

Jane nods, still watching Alyona.

The teen in question was currently being bombarded with questions.

"You were trained by the Soviet?" Weller asks.

"I just said that," Alyona replies, trying not to roll her eyes.

"Why?"

Alyona almost snaps. She reins herself in, careful to keep her face blank. "Because I had no choice, _Agent Weller_ , I was an infant. Do you expect me to roundhouse a Soviet trained guy at the age of zero?"

"Why didn't you escape as soon as you grew up?"

Alyona's fingers itched for a blade. Honestly, if she knew that the FBI were going to be big headed idiots, she wouldn't bother devising a plan to escape her Soviet confinement. "This is my first escape, agent. I'm thirteen, if you recall. Less than half the age of you. Would you expect me to escape when I was three? I barely knew how to shoot a gun, let alone escape a building full of Soviet trained people. Throwing a knife accurately was more important when I was three."

Weller barely suppresses the urge to bang his head on the wall. This teen was definitely difficult. Though she was sassy, she also had the air of charisma, and no matter how much she taunted them, he couldn't hate her. _Objective, Weller. Don't let this become another Jane._

"Why did you decide now?" He knew he had hit a nerve, but for Alyona's credit, she didn't show it.

This time, Alyona did roll her eyes. "Because this was the first time they gave me a place where I was not monitored by people all day long." And, under her breath in Russian, "Logic is apparently not a trait in FBI agents."

Jane caught her words this time. "She said that 'logic is apparently not a trait in FBI agents'." She turns to Zapata. "What did Weller ask her?"

"Why she decided to escape now," murmurs Zapata, understanding dawning in her eyes.

Jane looks back at the screen. _Weller, you're an idiot._

"What made you betray the Soviet?" Weller asks next.

Alyona smirks. Oh, she's going to have fun with this one, messing with their non-logical brains. "Who says I'm betraying the Soviet?"

That was it. Weller snaps. " _Look_ , Alyona, this is an _interrogation_ , not a game. We ask, you answer. Now tell me, _why are you betraying the Soviet?_ "

Alyona's smirk grows a tiny bit. Then, forcing it to fade, she feigns fear, widening her eyes and making her jaw clench. She sees Weller's body language radiate frustration and satisfaction. What's coming out of her mouth next will probably shock him, she thinks, but she knows the expression he's going to have on his face will be worth it.

"Because I don't know who I am."

 **A/N: Likies? I admit, I kind of made a Jane there, but it was fun. As always, leave please leave any helpful comments to improve my writing in the reviews. Thanks so much!**


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